


Mission Accepted

by jhoom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Asphyxiation, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Butt Plugs, Come Marking, Come play, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Gags, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sounding, Spanking, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, breath play, unsafe sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: The Winter Soldier has been ordered to capture, torture, and interrogate Captain America. Unfortunately for the Winter Soldier, none of the methods he tries seem to work. In fact, Captain America seems to enjoy each and every one…
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 45
Kudos: 365





	Mission Accepted

**Author's Note:**

> so i maaaybe have a thing for dub!con winter soldier/steve. i can't help it... but if you're looking for people to blame, you can certainly blame [foop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormidablePassion/pseuds/FormidablePassion) and [blue-reveries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face) for encouraging all of this (and maybe giving me a line or two). any typos or errors are all mine though, since this is un-beta'd pure smut. 
> 
> please mind the tags! if i missed one, please let me know!! also please note that the sounding described is not best practices - they're super soldiers, so bucky assumes cap can take it :) but seriously, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
> 
> come visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) to watch me liveblog my decent into stucky madness

The Winter Soldier, free of Hydra’s control but not quite in a position to return to his alleged former life, rents himself out as an assassin. He has the skills, he may as well use them, and now that he’s somewhat himself again, he can  _ refuse _ jobs. He doesn’t have to kill innocent targets just because someone pointed him in a direction and said  _ shoot _ .

His moral compass is not quite what it used to be, however. He knows this. He’s unsure what to do about it. 

When a new job crosses his path, he’s not sure if he wants to accept it or not. He’s not convinced the target is deserving… but it unsettles him to think of someone else accepting the job. If anything, he can take it and do it right, and more kindly than another might.

The mission: capture, torture, and interrogate Captain America for the locations and access codes to Avenger bases in the Northern Hemisphere. 

It’s a fool’s errand, he knows this; and still, he accepts it. 

He spends more time than necessary tracking his target. He sees a stranger but a familiar one; his mannerisms, his habits, his voice, they fill in otherwise shapeless voids in his memory. He is not  _ learning _ who Captain America is, he is  _ re-learning _ . 

That should be his first hint to cancel the contract and run. He's nothing if not stubborn, though.

Getting the jump on the man is easy, as easy as knocking on his apartment door. 

"Bucky." There’s so much in that tone for him to decipher; he doesn’t, and just knocks Steve out cold with a tranquilizer. He collapses like a ton of bricks, and it’s not exactly easy to discreetly get him out of the building, into his vehicle, and to the abandoned warehouse he’s prepared for this interrogation. 

Despite all of this, he’s convinced that it is not difficult enough.

“You let me capture you,” he accuses as soon as Captain America is awake, securely fastened to a chair. 

(Is he really Captain America if he’s out of uniform? If he’s in street clothes and looking adorably ruffled? This was a mistake, should have gotten him during a fight, at least then he’d be a Hero and not a man.)

The Captain makes an embarrassed face. An admission, one that makes the Soldier angry. How dare the Captain underestimate him? If this is because he pulled him from the river… 

_ Smoke and sirens and pain and the Captain, Steve, drowning drowning and it’s  _ **_his_ ** _ fault— _

He forces himself from the memory, his mechanical arm flexing and itching to  _ move _ . 

“That was a mistake,” he grits out. He’ll make the Captain learn better. 

“I trust you,” the Captain says quietly. 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“Probably not,” he agrees. He shrugs as much as his bindings will let him. “Still do. Willing to die for it if I’m wrong.” 

None of the words are acceptable, and as a whole they infuriate him. 

He strides over to the Captain, all business now. There’s no point in putting it off any longer. With a fistful of blond hair, he pulls until blue eyes are forced to look up and meet his. 

“I need the locations and passcodes for all Avengers facilities in the Northern Hemisphere. I’m asking once to give you a chance, but I will get that information from you by any means necessary.” 

The Captain swallows thickly, his Adama’s apple bobbing obscenely with the movement. When he speaks, his voice barely wavers. 

“You know I can’t do that, Bucky.” 

Honestly, he would have been disappointed if he could.

His grip tightens. 

“I’ll make it hurt.” 

Blue eyes flash with something, not quite a challenge, not quite doubt. “I’m sure you will.” 

It’s almost an invitation, and he takes it. 

All of his intel, past and present, says that Captain America is a straight man. His goal is to gain the information he needs without resorting to the more vicious forms of torture he’s learned under Hydra’s tuteledge. If he could instead make the Captain sexually uncomfortable, repel him enough that he started talking… Well, it was certainly preferable to the alternatives. 

He has a wide array of tools and techniques at his disposal; he doesn’t plan to use a single one if he can help it. 

He crowds in closer so he’s straddling the chair, inches away from actually making contact. And this is the part he wasn’t sure he could do. Sexually embarrassing a straight man would involve his own dick, ideally hard and ready for use. So rarely has he felt  _ any _ form of sexual arousal, and performing on command seemed unlikely. 

As he goes to open the fly of his pants, he finds he’s already half-hard and his erection growing rapidly. 

Huh. Strange. 

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he accepts his good fortune. He takes himself in hand, frees himself of the restrictive material, and strokes himself in idle warning. 

The Captain, for his part, licks his lips and eyes the precome gathering at the tip. 

Annoyed that he wasn’t showing the proper degree of fear or discomfort, he takes that final half-step forward. The Soldier rubs the length of his cock against the Captain’s cheek once, twice. He expects revulsion, flinching or at least a disinterested frown. Instead what he gets is the Captain’s eyes rolling back slightly in his head before he closes them and leans into the touch. 

What the fuck?

Harder than he might otherwise, he yanks on the Captain’s hair. “You still not talking?” 

He blinks open in surprise, like he’s unsure what they’re even talking about, before giving a firm, “No.” 

Now it’s metal fingers forcing his mouth open (it doesn’t take much effort at all) and he’s thrusting his dick into the warm heat. It’s probably stupid, a strategical error when there’s so many teeth and so much potential for things to go wrong, and yet immediately the Captain sucks him down. He hollows out his cheeks, relaxes his jaw, and lets his tongue skim along the underside of the Soldier’s cock. 

Okay, but  _ what the actual fuck is this man playing at? _

Perhaps it’s a game of chicken. Perhaps he means to call the Soldier’s bluff. Perhaps the Soldier just needs to try harder. 

He starts by fucking the Captain’s mouth deep and hard. He doesn’t let up, even when he can sense the Captain struggling. He should take it easy—wasn’t his goal to be kinder than another mercenary might be?—but every garbled moan from the Captain only urges him on. The few times he almost lets up, when he considers relaxing his pace even a little, the Captain whines like he knows, like he couldn’t stand for  _ less _ than what he’s taking right now. 

When he comes with a shudder, deep down the Captain’s throat, it sparks a strange kind of pleasure to see him swallow it all. He pulls out, come and spit spilling out the corner of the Captain’s mouth, and instantly his tongue comes out to lap it up. His eyes are dazed, but he doesn't seem at all distressed by his circumstances.

The soldier stands there a moment, uncertain. His orgasm lingers, makes his head fuzzy as he considers how to proceed. He'd expected more of a response by now, the barest hint of information or at least some begging. Nothing. He's gained nothing.

"One location, one passcode, and we can stop for now," he offers. His body is rigid, ready to spring into action when he's denied once again.

"No."

His heart skips a beat. He thinks he prefers this answer.

He worries the Captain will try to escape when he moves him from the chair to the table, not he goes willingly on unsteady feet. It surprises him how much he leans in the Soldier for support, as though he's actually been injured or compromised in any substantial way. When they get to the metal table, he collapses against the cold surface with a groan. 

The Soldier quickly secures him, assuming this is a trick of some sort. He refuses to let the Captain get the best of him. 

When he takes off the Captain’s pants—his plan to spread the other man’s legs nice and wide and bind them to the legs of the table—he pauses when he finds him hard. 

The Soldier had assumed the Captain’s earlier behavior was an act of defiance, not one of enjoyment. It frustrates him to know that he was wrong, that he was capable of misinterpreting a man he’s invested so much time in studying. His skin buzzes with the need to  _ punish _ for this indignity; as he manhandles the Captain into position, he grabs his dick and pushes it down, trapping it between his legs and the edge of the table instead of letting it rest under the Captain’s stomach. 

It earns him nothing more than a pained whimper. It’s an improvement, so he allows the sound. 

He itches to set to work, but he reminds himself that his plan relies on discomfort and not pain, and certainly not agony; he dutifully grabs the lube, resting nearly forgotten among the other instruments the Soldier has collected for this very task. 

His own dick is hard again, and he blames it on the serum. May as well put it to use, though. 

Standing behind the Captain, he puts his flesh hand on his back and pushes down with a light but steady pressure, more a warning than anything else; his metal hand he uses to spread the man’s ass and force one lubed finger into his fluttering hole. 

“Oh fuck,” the Captain whines against the table. He does not otherwise speak 

“This could be over,” the Soldier says, his words holding promise as he roughly starts to fuck in and out with his finger. “I just need information.”

The Captain makes a face at that, one that the Soldier classifies as bafflement. 

“Guess you’re not stopping then.” 

It feels like a taunt, and he growls in response to it. He works a second and third finger into the Captain’s tight ass in quick succession, using just shy of not enough lube to do so. He’s fucking the man with growing intensity, and still he won’t speak. Instead he whimpers and groans, even tries to fuck himself back onto the Soldier’s hand, but never does he try to reason with the Soldier. 

When he hooks his hand to rub circles against the Captain’s prostate, the man actually screams. 

“Shut up,” he snaps. A scream should mean progress, but it  _ bothers _ the Soldier. He doesn’t want to  _ hurt _ him… but no, it wasn’t from pain. The Captain is  _ enjoying _ this, and that’s equally unacceptable. 

If his mission fails, another will take over and try. They will not be as kind as he is. 

“Sorry,” the Captain says breathlessly. “Is it too much to ask that you do that again?” 

And that’s it, something in him snaps. 

“I’m getting a baton,” he warns. The Captain whines as the Soldier pulls away, his rim clenching around nothing. It’s a pleasant sight. 

“The baton?” the Captain says dreamily. “Oh no… I hope you don’t hit me too hard… Probably would hurt the most on the back of my thighs…” 

There’s a hint of a smile there, a challenge. 

The Soldier does not know how to respond to it, except to say, “And a gag.” 

He stands behind him in indecision. He has the baton, he has the gag, but he second guesses whether either is a good idea. With a gag, how can the Captain finally tell him what he needs? He won’t anyway, he reasons, and it’s a small comfort.

The baton though… that will hurt. That’ll leave a mark. Yes, the Captain heals quickly. Yes, he’s all but asked for it. But still, he hesitates. His plan does not include torture of this type. 

“Getting cold feet there, soldier?” the Captain taunts. “If you don’t think you’re up for it…” 

Decision made, his grip tightens. 

The first strike of the baton hits the meat of the Captain’s ass and he jerks forward. A line of precome leaks from his cock to the floor, a growing pool already there. There’s a cry, loud and surprised and beautiful, and the Soldier takes it as an opportunity to stuff the gag in his mouth. 

There’s a garbled reply, and he smiles. At least the gag is successful. 

He strikes two more times on his ass before he hits the back of his thighs as well, once, twice, three times in quick succession. He watches as more precome flows, a new spurt each time the Captain is struck, and frowns. A little harder, he strikes again and again until the Captain’s ass and thighs are bright red and no doubt aching. 

And then, before the Captain can possibly prepare for the intrusion, he thrusts his cock into his ass all at once. 

“You gonna tell me what I need to know if I take the gag out?” 

The gag is soaked with spit. Blue eyes shine with unspent tears. His face is flushed red from neck all the way up to the first wisps of blond hair on his forehead. Sweat gathers on his brow, collects at his temple and entices the Soldier to lean forward and lick it clean. 

He almost does, a reward of sorts, until the Captain shakes his head limply. 

“You will,” the Soldier promises. His fingers trace the imprint of the baton on the Captain’s left thigh, earning him a shiver. “You’ll tell me everything I want to know. I’ll work it out of you.” 

He has his own doubts about that, wonders how much time he would truly need to break the Captain, how far he would have to push. 

He’ll figure it out. He has to, for both their sakes. 

His pace is unforgiving. His frustration shows in his hard, relentless thrusts. Even after he comes, he doesn’t stop; his hips continue to work and once he regains more awareness, he’s pleased to find he’s still hard. 

_ How many times can I come? _ he wonders idly.  _ How long would it take to fill Steve’s ass? _

He does not notice the slip, the use of the Captain’s real name, the inherent fondness that wells up inside of him as he does so. 

It takes longer to come a second time, and by then even his muscles ache. It would do no good to show a moment of weakness, to let on how tired he is in this moment, so he pulls out and walks away to give himself time to recover. He looks over the supplies on his table, wondering which would serve him best in his interrogation, which he might resort to out of frustration. He hasn’t decided by the time his breathing evens out and his heartbeat slows to a reasonable pace.

His cock is still hard, but oh well. It’s an automatic response, one born of physical proximity and nothing more. It does not reflect his enjoyment and does not mean he is doing a poor job of interrogating his captive. 

He walks back to the Captain and nearly stops dead in his tracks. 

The Captain is boneless against the table, only his restraints keep him from collapsing to the ground. There is too much come on the floor, a sure sign that the Captain orgasmed at least once while the Soldier fucked him. 

He’ll have to up the ante. 

“No one ever said Captain America was such a slut,” he says and smacks the small welt on right side of the Captain’s ass. “You come untouched while getting fucked by someone  _ torturing _ you,” he sneers. 

And then he’s jerking off, fisting himself with one and only one goal in mind. 

It shouldn’t be possible, not with how tightly he’s strapped to the table, but the Captain manages to raise his ass just so in offering. He looks over his shoulder with hooded eyes and watches. Even when the Soldier starts to come all over his ass, he never looks away, barely seems to even blink. 

“I come,” the Soldier says, his fingers working through the mess of semen and sweat on the Captain’s ass and thighs. “You  _ don’t. _ ” And then he pushes it back into his hole, gathers everything that’s already leaked out and everything he’s just spilled and works it inside his loosened and well-fucked channel. 

The Captain moans obscenely and his cock twitches. 

Once the Captain’s full again, his ass clenched tight without the Soldier telling him to do that, the Soldier finds a black plug. He pushes it in, the Captain relaxing as soon as he feels the intrusion, and traps three loads of come inside. With a half-smile, he wonders what the other Avengers would say if they could see their hero like this: a fucked out mess. 

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought. It was too sentimental, and sentiment had no place here. 

“Ready to talk?” He knows the answer, would be more disappointed if the Captain finally did agree now, but he has to ask. He has to keep the illusion going, has to remind them both that this is all business. 

The Captain shakes his head minutely. 

_ Good _ , he thinks.

“Too bad,” he says. “This next part’s not going to be fun.” 

There’s a muffled sound from the gag as the Captain attempts to speak. Unbidden, the Soldier hears the words clear as day, coming to him from a forgotten memory:  _ I could do this all day. _

His grip is bruising when he carries the Captain from the table back to the chair. The bindings are too tight and he knows it, but he’s  _ furious _ with this idiotic man who refuses to do what’s best for himself.

Might be a little furious with himself, too. 

He’s more liberal with the lube now as he wets the Captain’s straining dick and then the sound. It’s metal, and he tries not to see the parallel between it and the shining metal of his fingers as he works it into the Captain’s urethra. 

“Stay still,” he scolds when the Captain’s muscles stiffen.  _ I don’t want to hurt you, you have to stay still or I might. _ “Don’t make it hurt.” 

Despite the warning, he trembles, an automatic response that the Captain can’t seem to control. 

It only gets worse once the sound is completely in his hard cock, and then he’s practically shaking as the Soldier slowly fucks him with it. 

There are noises, words and more indistinct moans, trapped by the gag. The Soldier measures the time by them, working the sound fast when the Captain is silent, and slow when he’s loud. 

The Captain practically  _ wails _ when he stops, a mournful keening that would surely break the Soldier if he were a lesser man. 

“Talk,” he orders. He’s already turning away before the Captain shakes his head to deny him. 

It takes time to work himself open. He doesn’t do as good of a job as he should, and he doesn’t unpack  _ why _ he doesn’t. There’s no need to hurt  _ himself _ , no need to rush if the point is to prolong the Captain’s suffering. Still, he’s so impatient, so damn  _ eager _ to feel the Captain’s dick inside of him he can’t be bothered with a more reasonable pace. 

Straddling the chair, his bare legs flush against bare thighs, he slowly sinks down on the Captain. 

For the first time, the Captain struggles against his bindings. He shakes, strains, practically screams against the gag and tries to thrust up to meet the Soldier. It’s only when he’s fully seated does the Captain relax and give in. 

“You weren’t supposed to fight me on this,” the Soldier growls as he rides the Captain. There’s no thought to what pace would best torment the poor man; no, now it’s about seeking his own pleasure. He’s been denied anything close to this for so long, and finally it’s all here for him to take, and he’ll enjoy it, dammit. 

“You weren’t supposed to enjoy any of this, you… you fucking  _ punk _ … You were supposed to give in before I even got close to your dick… Why would you… Why would you  _ do _ this to me?”

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he takes out the gag. The one-sidedness of his words bother him, he supposes; he wants to hear an answer, regardless of what it is. 

It’s a mistake. As soon as it’s free, the Captain starts babbling. 

“Oh fuck oh Bucky don’t stop fucking hell don’t stop feels so good please please please don’t stop lemme go lemme put a hand on your dick  _ please _ Buck lemme touch you—” 

On and on it goes, a steady stream of pleas and adoration. He’d put the gag back in,  _ should _ put it back in for his own fragile sanity, but he can’t bear to. He  _ wants _ to hear it, on some primal level he  _ needs _ it. 

So he continues to ride the Captain, enjoying every word of it, especially as it nears incoherence. 

An idea strikes him as his own climax approaches. The Captain clearly has no control over what he’s saying 

“Where are the Avenger bases in North America?” he purrs into his ear. “Where 

The Captain whines and pouts. “Can’t tell you. Do anything for you but that. Please please I can’t—” 

It’s not a gag this time, but a hand around his throat. He can feel the warmth of the Captain against the flesh of his real hand, and he savors it, strokes his thumb up and down, his grip loose but firm. 

“Tell me.” 

“Bucky, wha—?” 

“Tell me. Just one location and I’ll stop.” 

His eyes become momentarily clearer as he looks up at the Soldier. He doesn’t falter as he says, “You know I can’t do that.” 

And then he tightens his hand. 

He doesn’t ride him. No, that would be too much, he needs to concentrate, needs his wits about him. Instead he grinds his hips back and forth. His hand can feel the Captain’s pulse flutter beneath his skin. It starts strong, wild even, but gradually slows as he’s deprived of more and more air. It’s so slow, so dangerously slow that the Soldier’s own heart beats frantically to compensate. 

It’d be so easy to kill him like this. The Captain would let him, hasn’t put up a fight yet and won’t start now with the life fading from his eyes. He could do it, and he might even enjoy it— 

Instantly he lets go. He feels the Captain come the instant the first breath hits his lungs. He watches in fascination as the color starts to return to his face, as his eyes light up again. It’s beautiful, and he doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. 

“Keep going,” the Captain rasps. He nods to the Soldier’s weeping dick, still hard where it’s trapped between them. 

The Soldier scowls at him. Out of principle, he wants to ignore his cock completely, but the temptation is too great. He jerks himself off and comes on his hand only a few strokes later (notably when the Captain whispers, “Look real good like that, Buck.”). 

Finally, he softens. 

There is no measure to the amount of frustration he feels as he begins to clean them both up. He has failed in his mission, both to gather information and to save Stev— _ the Captain _ from a much worse adversary who will not be nearly so good to him. 

_ There’s no one worse than me, _ part of him whispers.  _ No one else would be able to capture him like you did. No one else would get even  _ **_close_ ** _ without being ripped apart. You are uniquely qualified for this mission, and you still blew it. _

It haunts him, the way everything about the Captain haunts him. Their relationship, past and present is nothing but a series of failures on his part, and the Captain warmly welcoming him back after each and every single one. 

He wants at least one victory in all this, but he’s lost at how to achieve it. 

He’s gentle as his hands work, and he thinks that’s a start. He gently wipes away the sweat and come. He caresses the bruises at the Captain’s neck, at his wrists as he unties him. He braces, briefly, for the Captain to attack once he’s freed; he doesn’t, though, the Soldier wishes he were surprised. 

He licks all the drops of come that seep out around the sound before he carefully extracts it, earning a whine from the Captain. And because he's a bit of an asshole, even know, he licks a long line up the overstimulated, sensitive skin of his cock and sucks once, hard, at the tip before forcing himself away.

He worries the Captain might harden again at the careful touch, so he turns away to find the abandoned clothes he’d removed an hour ago; they've had enough, it's been too much already, they need to stop for air. When he hands them over, he can’t bear to meet the Captain’s eye. 

His back to him, he lets his expert hearing paint a picture of each movement. The come and sweat-stained shirt discarded and replaced with a loose hoodie. His boxers and then his sweats

When he turns back to finally face him, the Captain is standing there awkwardly. He looks so lost, so sad. An instinct, ancient but strong, flares in the Soldier’s chest, screams at him to  _ comfort him, dammit! _ Against his will, his fingers twitch but that’s all, the only evidence of his desires. 

“Well, that was fun,” the Captain says with a forced laugh. He puts his hands in his pocket and bounces back and forth on his heels. He looks ridiculous, especially barefoot in a dirty warehouse, but he doesn’t seem to feel out of place. 

The Soldier is about to point out that it wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be fun at all, when the Captain blurts out: “You wanna come back to Avengers Tower with me?” 

He quirks his head in confusion.

“I can uh… I can tell you the passcode to that base… you said you just needed one…” he offers, though now his shoulders slump like he worries he’ll be rejected anyway. “You can torture me some more, if that helps. Anytime you want…” 

The Soldier considers all of two seconds before he steps forward, a hand on the Captain’s waist as he looks up into intense blue eyes. 

“Well, I  _ was _ hired to torture you. They never said  _ how long _ I had to do it… I’m still technically on the clock and shouldn’t let you go…” 

The Captain smiles warmly. “It’s not like you got much of the intel you wanted, either,” he says helpfully. He pulls the Soldier closer. “Might take you  _ years _ to gather it all.” 

“It might,” he agrees. They’re so close now, he can feel his words brushing the Captain’s face like a caress. He closes the last millimeters of space and steals a kiss.

“Hey, Buck. Missed you.” 

“Hey, Steve. Missed you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

>  **bonus scene** (warning for voyeurism and implied natascha/clint)  
>  **natascha:** you know how i said i wouldn’t do anything about barnes?  
>  **sam:** jfc what’d you *do*  
>  **nat, innocently:** nothing!!!  
>  **sam:**  
>  **sam:**  
>  **nat:** okay fine. i hired barnes to capture steve and torture him.  
>  **sam:** what!?  
>  **nat:** oh please, they’re both so horny on main for each other they’ll just fuck it out and be done with it. F I N A L L Y  
>  **sam:** i don't feel comfortable with this-  
>  **nat:** you want steve to be happy? then shut up and send in the drone so we can make sure they get this done  
>  **sam, grumpy but doing as he’s told:** i don't need to see steve's pasty ass being spanked on my monitor  
>  **sam, five minutes later:** omfg i didn't think they'd be so kinky... this is at least 50% worse than i thought i’d be  
>  **nat, eating popcorn:** shut up i can't hear  
>  **tony:** *walks into room, sees monitor, promptly passes out due to shock with a bloody nose*  
>  **nat:** you're all prudes. where's clint, he'd love this  
>  **clint, dropping down from air vent and stealing some popcorn:** can we try that, nat? it looks pretty fun...
> 
> **bonus bonus scene**  
>  five years later bucky and steve are living together, working together, and happily married. one day bucky’s sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal while steve sketches.  
>  **bucky:** oh shit.  
>  **steve:** ???  
>  **bucky:** i never finished that job  
>  **steve:** which job???  
>  **bucky:** the one where i was supposed to torture you for avengers intel—  
>  **steve, already undressing:** whelp i guess you better get back to it, soldier


End file.
